Famous Vine Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Vine poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous vine poems. These examples illustrate what a famous vine poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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by
Thomas Hardy
I
"Soul! Shall I see thy face," she said,
"In one brief hour?
And away with thee from a loveless bed
To a far-off sun, to a vine-wrapt bower,
And be thine own unseparated,
And challenge the world's white glower?
II
She quickened her feet, and met him where
They had predesigned:
And they clasped, and...Read more of this...
by
Isaac Watts
Characters of Christ; borrowed from inanimate things in Scripture.
Go, worship at Immanuel's feet,
See in his face what wonders meet!
Earth is too narrow to express
His worth, his glory, or his grace.
[The whole creation can afford
But some faint shadows of my Lord;
Nature, to make his beauties known,
Must mingle colors not her own.]
[Is he compared to wine or bread?
Dear Lord, our souls...Read more of this...
by
Aleister Crowley
"To Lionel Engers-Kennedy: to the memory of Hargrave Jennings: and
to A. C. W. G. and H. E. H."
Beneath the vine tree and the fig
Where mortal cares may not intrude,
On melon and on sucking pig
Although their brains are bright and big
Banquet the Great White Brotherhood.
Among the fountains and the trees
That fringed his garden's glowing border,
At sunset walked, and, in the...Read more of this...
by
Vachel Lindsay
(Note: — Pocahontas is buried at Gravesend, England.)
"Pocahontas' body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a red haw in November or a pawpaw in May — did she wonder? does she remember — in the dust — in the cool tombs?"
CARL SANDBURG.
I
Powhatan was conqueror,
Powhatan was emperor.
He was akin to wolf and bee,
Brother of the hickory tree.
Son of...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
Take a cup of wine in thy hand, then mingle thy voice
with that of the nightingale, for, if it were meet to drink
this juice of the vine without accompaniment of harmonious
sound, the wine itself would make no noise in
slipping out of the flask....Read more of this...
by
James Thomson
THE wine of Love is music,
And the feast of Love is song:
And when Love sits down to the banquet,
Love sits long:
Sits long and arises drunken,
But not with the feast and the wine;
He reeleth with his own heart,
That great, rich Vine....Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
O mufti [grand judge] of the city! I am more a worker
than art thou. Drunk as I am, I own more intelligence
than thou; for thou, thou drinkest the blood of human
beings and I that of the vine. Be just and tell me
which is the more sanguinary of the two?
345...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
In Cheeban [a month] I must not embrace the vine; in
Redjeb I am consecrate to Him. By right these sixty
suns to Allah and his Prophet are assigned: let Ramazan
in mercy bring the cooling cup again....Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
That day when the juice of the vine does not ferment
in my head, the universe could offer me an antidote which
would be a poison to me. Yea, sorrow over the things
of this world is a poison, and its antidote is wine. I will
take the antidote then that I may have no fear of the
poison.
349...Read more of this...
by
Alan Seeger
First, London, for its myriads; for its height,
Manhattan heaped in towering stalagmite;
But Paris for the smoothness of the paths
That lead the heart unto the heart's delight. . . .
Fair loiterer on the threshold of those days
When there's no lovelier prize the world displays
Than, having beauty and your twenty years,
You have the means...Read more of this...
by
Christopher Marlowe
1 On Hellespont, guilty of true love's blood,
2 In view and opposite two cities stood,
3 Sea-borderers, disjoin'd by Neptune's might;
4 The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight.
5 At Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero the fair,
6 Whom young Apollo courted for her hair,
7 And offer'd as a dower his burning throne,
8 Where she could sit for men to gaze upon.
9 The...Read more of this...
by
Alan Seeger
Thy petals yet are closely curled,
Rose of the world,
Around their scented, golden core;
Nor yet has Summer purpled o'er
Thy tender clusters that begin
To swell within
The dewy vine-leaves' early screen
Of sheltering green.
O hearts that are Love's helpless prey,
While yet you may,
Fly, ere the shaft is on the string!
The fire that...Read more of this...
by
John Keats
O SORROW!
Why dost borrow
The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?--
To give maiden blushes
To the white rose bushes?
Or is it thy dewy hand the daisy tips?
O Sorrow!
Why dost borrow
The lustrous passion from a falcon-eye?--
To give the glow-worm light?
Or, on...Read more of this...
by
Robert Herrick
I dreamed this mortal part of mine
Was metamorphosed to a vine,
Which, crawling one and every way,
Enthralled my dainty Lucia.
Methought, her long small legs and thighs
I with my tendrils did surprise:
Her belley, buttocks, and her waist
By my soft nervelets were embraced
About her head I writhing hung
And with rich clusters (hid Amoung
The leaves) her temples i behung,
So that my Lucia seemed...Read more of this...
by
Victor Hugo
Beautiful spirit, come with me
Over the blue enchanted sea:
Morn and evening thou canst play
In my garden, where the breeze
Warbles through the fruity trees;
No shadow falls upon the day:
There thy mother's arms await
Her cherished infant at the gate.
Of Peris I the loveliest far—
...Read more of this...
by
Emily Dickinson
We -- Bee and I -- live by the quaffing --
'Tisn't all Hock -- with us --
Life has its Ale --
But it's many a lay of the Dim Burgundy --
We chant -- for cheer -- when the Wines -- fail --
Do we "get drunk"?
Ask the jolly Clovers!
Do we "beat" our "Wife"?
I -- never wed --
Bee -- pledges his --...Read more of this...
by
Amanda Gorman
When day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,
a sea we must wade
We've braved the belly of the beast
We've learned that quiet isn't always peace
And the norms and notions
of what just is
Isn't always just-ice
And yet the dawn is ours
before we knew it
Somehow we do it
Somehow we've weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn't...Read more of this...
by
Edwin Arlington Robinson
“Be calm? And was I frantic?
You’ll have me laughing soon.
I’m calm as this Atlantic,
And quiet as the moon;
I may have spoken faster
Than once, in other days;
For I’ve no more a master,
And now—‘Be calm,’ he says.
“Fear not, fear no commotion,—
I’ll be as rocks and sand;
The moon and stars and ocean
Will envy...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
When I am dead, wash me with the juice of the vine;
in place of prayer, sing above my tomb the praise of
the cup and the wine, and, if you would find me again
at the day of doom, seek me in the dust of the tavern
floor....Read more of this...
by
Gerard Manley Hopkins
And he said, If the Lord do not help thee, whence shall I help thee? out of the barnfloor, or out of the winepress?
2 Kings VI: 27
Thou that on sin's wages starvest,
Behold we have the joy in harvest:
For us was gather'd the first fruits,
For us was lifted from the roots,
Sheaved in cruel bands, bruised...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
Youth is the time to pay court to the vine,
To quaff the cup, with revellers to recline;
A flood of water once laid waste the earth,
Hence learn to lay you waste with floods of wine....Read more of this...
by
Conrad Aiken
from Senlin: A Biography
It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning
When the light drips through the shutters like the dew,
I arise, I face the sunrise,
And do the things my fathers learned to do.
Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops
Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die,
And I myself on...Read more of this...
by
Robert William Service
They say she speeded wanton wild
When she was warm with wine;
And so she killed a little child,
(Could have been yours or mine).
The Judge's verdict was not mild,
And heavy was the fine.
And yet I see her driving still,
But maybe with more care . . .
Oh I should hate a child to kill
With vine leaves in...Read more of this...
by
Alfred Lord Tennyson
‘The Bull, the Fleece are cramm’d, and not a room
For love or money. Let us picnic there
At Audley Court.’
I spoke, while Audley feast
Humm’d like a hive all round the narrow quay,
To Francis, with a basket on his arm,
To Francis just alighted from the boat,
And breathing of the sea. ‘With all my heart,’
Said Francis. Then we shoulder’d thro’ the swarm,
And...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
What belongs to youth is wine, the limpid juice of the
vine and the society of beauty; and since water once
brought ruin to this world by annihilating it, it is our
part to drown ourselves in wine, to pass our life in
drunkenness complete....Read more of this...
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